Free Earnest by Kristin von Kreisler Page A

these repairs, Jeff rudely pushed his way into her mind, a camel’s nose under her tent. Every summer in college he’d worked for a contractor. Jeff could fix anything. He knew about wiring, painting, and plumbing. Putting up Joy’s new wall would take him just an afternoon. Anna squeezed her eyes closed to banish him from her thoughts. No matter his skills, she would never ask him for help. Not after what he’d done.
    â€œWe can’t tell what’s ahead. We have too many unknowns,” Joy said.
    â€œWe know we want to save the house and buy it if we can. That should be the goal,” Anna said.
    â€œHear, hear,” Lauren said.
    â€œIt seems impossible,” Joy said.
    â€œEven so, we can’t just lie down and die,” Anna said.
    Joy rolled the broom’s handle between her palms. “I hope you’re not lying down and dying about Jeff, Anna.”
    â€œWhat do you mean?”
    â€œLetting him get away with being such a despicable pissant,” Joy answered.
    â€œHe’s definitely hurt me,” Anna admitted.
    â€œ Hurt you? He’s clobbered you. A betrayal like that deserves a whap to his kisser,” Joy said.
    â€œYou’re probably right,” Anna said.
    â€œI’m more than right. Don’t you think so, Lauren?”
    Lauren swung her feet and seemed thoughtful for a moment. “Anna, you do have a right to be mad.”
    â€œShe has a right to be outraged. He betrayed her big-time. I’d kill him,” Joy said.
    Anna glanced at the floor. Though she’d mopped it twice, tracked-in ashes were everywhere. She felt like one of those ashes herself. Trampled. Pulverized, really, if she were honest with herself. Joy was right—Jeff had betrayed her, and she was more than hurt. When she looked at his betrayal square in the eyes, she realized how resentful she was.

    For the rest of the afternoon, Anna smoldered, but she did not welcome her resentment. It felt like a burglar who’d crawled through her window and was rifling her home. However, there the feeling was in all its spiked and prickly glory, and she had no way to ignore it. A healer might say that her spirit was enflamed and she had a fever of the soul.
    Seeking calm, Anna climbed up to the turret, which as a child had been her secret thinking spot. As a renter for the last few years, she’d sought refuge here with Earnest. She found comfort in the quiet, and she liked looking down on Gamble’s roofs from the perspective of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
    Now smoke had left a gloomy gray film on them, and the rest of the turret was equally dreary. But she told herself that the white wicker rocking chair could be repainted, and the brass floor lamp’s lotus-shaped base could be polished to a shine again. Earnest’s faux oriental rug could be cleaned. A little mopping, scrubbing, and window washing could revive the room in a weekend.
    Opposite the windows, Anna sank, cross-legged, to the floor and leaned against the wall. She counted her breaths for a while and then unscrewed the rusty lid of the Mason jar that held the time capsule, which Ted Carcionni had saved. A thick layer of dust clouded the glass and kept her from seeing the objects inside. But the capsule inspired awe because it linked her tangibly to the house’s past.As she shook out the jar’s contents, she felt that whoever had built the house was reaching out to her through the mists of time.
    In a letter, James Williams, an attorney, explained that he’d come from Minnesota and built the house in 1880 for his wife and their seven children. A photo showed the children standing in front of a one-room clapboard schoolhouse; on the back he’d listed their names. He’d enclosed a dollhouse’s ladder-back chair, a bullet, a clamshell, and a lock of hair. He’d also put in a page from the Gamble Crier . Al’s Grocery advertised eggs for thirty cents a dozen; milk, eight